About That Night
by Chinese Bakery
Summary: She's a teacher, not a nun. What will happen when David finds out? Mary Margaret's misstep starts a chain of events leading to unexpected discoveries. Set immediately after 'The Shepherd'.
1. Chapter 1

_« Just want to be like I am inside. Right by your side. »_  
><em>Mazzy Star<em>

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><p>In truth, Mary Margaret had rarely felt more self-conscious than as she did when stepping into Dr. Whale's perfect bachelor pad of a house. Not Dr. Whale, Connor. She couldn't keep calling him by his title now that she had agreed to go home with him for coffee. <em>For sex<em>, she mentally corrected. She was here to have sex with him and there was no use denying it. Meaningless, loveless sex. And why not? She was a grown woman, single, and, yes, lonely. Engaging in a consensual act with an attractive and equally unattached man. There was nothing wrong with that.

But it felt wrong. Worse than wrong, a betrayal. Why was that? She didn't have anyone to betray. As for David, he was probably in bed with his wife right now, doing exactly what she was about to do. _Don't think about him_, she commanded herself, shaking off the shiver of anguish that the thought elicited.

"Everything alright?"

Mary Margaret looked up to find Connor staring at her with a grin that could only be described as predatory. He stood in the middle of the living room, unmoving. Waiting.

"Of course," she replied with the best smile she could conjure up. Understanding he wanted her to make the first step, to come to him willingly, she took a few uncertain steps in his direction.

_You don't have to do this, _an inner voice shouted, _it's not too late to run away. _Annoyed with herself, Mary Margaret swiftly closed the distance between them.

"Good," he grinned harder and nodded, before bringing his mouth to her ear to trail kisses up and down her neck. "It's about time you loosened up, don't you think?" he whispered, sounding amused.

His mouth finally came to meet hers and the liquor on his breath reminded her that she was more than a little tipsy herself. Would they be here together if she wasn't? She'd never had a one night stand, had never even entertained the idea before. This was so unlike her.

She'd always been such a good girl.

But David had awakened something in her, a yearning not just for love or companionship, but for something rawer, deeper. She craved a true connection, emotional and physical. One she wouldn't find tonight, she knew.

"Come on," Connor said, grabbing her hand. "The bedroom's this way."

How long had it been since she'd last done this? She couldn't even remember. As clothes were shed and their slow kisses turned feverish, his warmth, the weight of his body over her gave her a genuine thrill of want. Mary Margaret shut her eyes in delight, only to be assaulted with visions of a sad smile and the bluest of eyes that twisted a blade within her chest.

_Stop,_ she berated herself, forcing her eyes open, _don't think about him. Don't think about him, don't think about him._ As it turned out, there was no helping that.

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><p>Mary Margaret woke up with her arm wrapped around a warm male chest and a smile on her face. <em>This is nice<em>, she thought as she stirred, an instant before reality came crashing over her.

With the thrill of the moment gone and the alcohol buzz long faded, there was no escaping the fact that she was lying naked in a semi-stranger's bed and her heart was no less broken than it had been the night before. Suddenly self-conscious, Mary Margaret put some distance between herself and the man next to her, tugging on the sheet until it covered her chest.

"Who's James?" Connor yawned, before shifting to rest flat on his back.

"Who?" she asked, startled by the question.

"I don't know," he said, tucking a hand under his head. "You're the one who keeps calling him in your sleep."

"I... don't know anyone by that name," Mary Margaret replied, confused. It rang a distant bell, one she couldn't quite place and for some reason, it bothered her.

"Listen, I've got to get to work early this morning."

"Oh. Right." She couldn't help but feel an instant pang of shame at the tactless dismissal. "I'd better hurry anyway. Emma will wonder where I've gone."

"Do you need me to drive you home?"

His reluctance to follow through was so comically obvious that Mary Margaret couldn't refrain from chuckling. "It's okay," she said, scanning the room for her underwear, "I can walk."

"I'm not ditching you, you know," he offered, not unkindly. "I really do have an early morning lined up."

"Hospital hours, I get it," she replied with a forced smile. "Don't worry about it."

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><p>The flowers were unexpected, as were the phone calls. She'd thought that, after their night together, Connor had gotten what he'd wanted from her and would move on to other prey, but he seemed keen on seeing her again. Although she had to admit, she felt a little flattered to be pursued this way. However, Mary Margaret was wary to accept going on another date with him. She had yet to give him a definite 'no', though.<p>

The reason she couldn't make up her mind was that it was still engrossed with thoughts of another man. Mary Margaret couldn't remember ever seeing David Nolan in Storybrooke before his accident. She would have noticed his eyes, she was quite sure. And she certainly wouldn't have forgotten that smile, had it ever been pointed in her direction. The town was too small for them to have never crossed paths before, wasn't it? But whenever she tried remembering, her mind grew foggy.

Nowadays, however, David was everywhere, always standing in her way. He was seemingly constantly out and about, shopping for groceries, dining out, dropping by the bookstore or just walking down the street, hand in hand with his wife, making Mary Margaret's life a living hell.

She'd hoped the scorching pain of the first days would quickly fade into more of a dull ache, but it hadn't happened yet. Every time she caught sight of him, the wound reopened and bled anew. There was nothing she could do about it, she had no choice but to soldier through the awkward hellos and the sideway glances.

When he looked at her, his eyes grew impossibly soft. She wanted to hate him for it. The last thing she wanted for him was compassion, or pity, or whatever that was. But his smile still sent goosebumps up her spine. It was so completely unfair.

None of this was lost on David's wife. As weeks passed and uncomfortable encounters started adding up, Kathryn's smiles grew tenser, her voice less friendly. Whenever she'd catch sight of Mary Margaret, she would automatically wrap a possessive hand around David's waist and move closer until they walked hip to hip.

The message was crystal clear. _Mine_.

* * *

><p>As pleased as she was with her new living arrangements with Emma, Mary Margaret relished her solitude. She often went out for an early breakfast at Granny's for a little alone time and, unwilling as she was to admit it, a glimpse of David as he picked up his morning coffee to go.<p>

One morning, she was so engrossed in the book she was her reading that she didn't notice the man standing next to her table until he cleared his throat, quite blatantly, in an effort to gather her attention.

"Connor, hi," she replied, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, you haven't answered my messages, so I thought I might as well make it impossible for you to ignore me," he replied with a grin. "Mind if I sit with you?"

"I, erm," she started, but Connor was already sitting opposite her, stretching his legs under the table until they touched hers. "Alright, then."

"So, what about that date? Or maybe you'd prefer something less...formal." The look he gave her made it abundantly clear that by 'formal', he meant 'clothed'. Mary Margaret frowned and made a face but in truth, she was amused. Perhaps she was getting used to his ridiculousness.

The doorbell chimed and a familiar figure appeared in her line of sight, crossing the room in a few easy strides to go order by the counter.

_Oh no, not now_. Mary Margaret hadn't been the least bit anxious to find herself in the same room with the both of them at the same time. She started unwittingly, shrinking in her seat, desperate as she was to remain unnoticed. But Connor was having none of it.

"So, tell me," he said, looming over the table until their faces were close enough to touch. "What do I need to do to get you out of that prim little dress again?" he whispered by her ear.

Mary Margaret felt herself blush. _Don't look_, she half-heartedly ordered herself, but her eyes were drawn to him as they always were. And what she saw then gave her a vibrant thrill.

David was standing still, as though frozen midway to the door, his jaw clenched tightly as he stared hard at the two of them, at their heads drawn close. It was all there – the hurt, the anger, the confusion. _Join the club_. As uncharitable as it was to rejoice at someone's misery, Mary Margaret allowed herself to enjoy it, just for a minute.

"I'm free tomorrow night," she said, suddenly determined. "For dinner!" she added promptly, which made Connor grin all the more.

"Perfect. I'll pick you up on my way back from work."

The bell chimed again but this time it was followed by the sound of a door slamming unnecessarily hard.

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><p><em>To be continued.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

_« And so what is love? And who am I _  
><em>to dare to pull the stars from your favourite sky? »<em>  
><em>I Am Kloot<em>

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><p>He'd thought naively that remembering would fix everything. That he would no longer have to wander in perpetual bewilderment, clinging to every fleeting feeling in case it held a clue to solving his puzzle. That he would finally know his place in the world.<p>

He couldn't have been more wrong. It hadn't helped a thing. Worse, it had only served to accentuate his confusion. The memories were there, but the emotions attached to them were hollow. It was like watching a movie; he could emphasize with the characters and root for them to get their happy ending, but only to a point. There was a distance between him and them that just couldn't be crossed**. **

It was particularly true regarding his relationship with Kathryn. Of all the things he remembered about their life together, the dinner dates in fancy restaurants, the upscale vacations, even their honeymoon in Paris -none of it felt like something he'd want for himself. He was drawn to simpler things.

He'd told her so, before his memory had returned. When he feared the accident had cost him not just his past, but his whole identity. That he'd woken up a different person, one who had no true attachment to the world.

"You used to tease me all the time about my being a snob," she'd said with a sad smile. "That is, until you grew to enjoy a little luxury yourself."

The daughter of a very affluent businessman, Kathryn was used to nice things, as she put it. David's upbringing has been much more modest. They'd made it work with many concessions on both parts, which had been easier said than done.

From what he now remembered, most of their frequent arguments had taken root in that inextricable difference in perception. He'd reproach her for being wasteful and irresponsible, she'd blame him for being unable to appreciate her and what she had to offer him.

Nowadays, though, they never fought. Not outwardly, in any case.

Kathryn wasn't blind, nor was she stupid. She'd never asked him point blank what exactly had made him leave her so suddenly after his coming home party, or why he'd been so remote, but he could tell that she didn't need to. When he had come back to Kathryn, he'd promised he would try with all his might to honor his vows and do right by her. Ever since that day, he'd been fighting a raging battle against himself.

A glimpse of Mary Margaret, the sound of her laughter over the endless chatter of Granny's patrons, or just the memory of her unspeakable sweetness gave him a scorching need to be with her, anyway and anyhow, as well as a boundless ache for what couldn't be. When she wasn't near, he yearned for her all the same.

In his dreams, she was an amazon, a woman of the woods, hair wild and assertive, with a vulnerability so expertly concealed that he was the only one to recognize it.

And he craved her just as much.

* * *

><p>The best moment in David's day usually was the stop to Granny's for take-away coffee on his way to driving Kathryn to work. She was the head of PR for her dad's company, a position that came with disturbingly long hours and a fair amount of stress. Kathryn took her morning coffee very seriously.<p>

Incidentally, it was also David's best chance to catch a sight of Mary Margaret. On most days, he refrained from stopping by her table to say hello. As innocent as it seemed, it was a weakness that always caused him a pinch of guilt afterwards. Kathryn had demanded in veiled terms that he severe his relationship with her and he intended to comply.

A single nod, a smile, a greeting here and there didn't amount to a relationship in his book. However, he knew that the longing he felt when she was away constituted a much more serious offense. But that was the compromise he'd come to allow himself, until the morning he found her sitting with a man he recognized as Dr. Whale.

David didn't appreciate the doctor much. From what he'd witnessed during his recovery, Dr. Whale was rather self-absorbed and inconsiderate with the nurses and subordinates, which, in David's opinion, was a good indicator of a person's character. He was surprised that Mary Margaret met with him socially. Were they friends? He hadn't gotten that vibe on the rare occasions during which he'd seen them interact at the hospital.

As he looked on in puzzlement, Dr. Whale leaned over the table to whisper something to Mary Margaret's ear. Closely. Intimately.

She didn't push him back, didn't even look offended. Her pale cheeks flushed bright pink, confirming David's suspicion that whatever Whale had said was salacious in nature. Suddenly, inexplicably, Mary Margaret's eyes met with David's. She looked guilt-stricken.

David felt his blood reach boiling point as gut-wrenching visions of the two of them intertwined intruded in his head.

She wasn't his. She didn't owe him a thing. And since he couldn't be hers, he had no place expecting anything from her, much less that she kept away from other men. But he couldn't bear the thought, nor could he endure the images unfolding in his mind, brewing an explosive blend of fury and pain.

Outside, David shoved both coffee cups in Kathryn's hand, slammed the driver's door behind him, and went on to stare idly through the windshield. He needed a moment to gather himself, to stifle the urge to go back and yell at them both, to wrench them apart, or punch Whale in the face repeatedly. His hands were shaking, his heart pounding.

"What's wrong?" Kathryn asked, alarmed. "You look upset."

_Everything. Everything's wrong. I can't keep living like this._

"Nothing," he muttered through his teeth before conjuring a forced smile. "I'm fine. We'd better go before you run late for work." It was going to be a long, long day.

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><p>That night, Dinner at the Nolans was a tense and deafeningly silent affair. David had been running in circles all day, trying to sort out all sorts of contradictory feelings, and, by nighttime, he was about ready to explode. At the table, nothing could be heard other than the clicking of silverware against porcelain.<p>

"What's wrong with you today?" Kathryn asked with a sigh. "You've been restless all evening."

"You know what? I need some air," he said abruptly, giving up on all pretenses. "I'm going for a walk. Don't wait up, okay?"

"Why does this feel like déjà vu?" she asked, her eyes already filling with tears.

"It's not like that," he said, his voice softening. "I just need to think. You don't need to worry."

He kissed the top of her head before going to grab his coat, hoping to appease her. The muffled sob he heard as he walked out the door wrenched at his heart, adding another layer of guilt to his overflowing emotions.

On his way to Mary Margaret's, his temper rose anew, mixing with his disappointment in his own weaknesses. He debated turning on his heels, walking straight back home to comfort the woman he'd just hurt again, but the memory of the exchange he'd witnessed in the morning urged him on. Before he had a chance to lose his nerve again, he knocked urgently on her door.

"David?" Mary Margaret frowned as she opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

He was trying to come up with a valid answer to that very question when he noticed she was wearing a robe and slippers. His frenzied mind instantly short-circuited.

"Is he here?" he demanded to know.

"What? Who do you-"

"Whale," he seethed. "Is he here?" David tried taking a peek over her shoulder, but she joined him on the doorstep, shutting the door behind her.

"I can't believe you," she told him, crossing her arms against her chest.

"Were you seeing him before?" he continued feverishly. "When you came to meet me at the toll bridge, where you sleeping with him then?"

"You are _way_ out of line!" Mary Margaret exclaimed, horrified.

"So, what if I am! Do you have any idea-"

"Yes, actually," she cut, arduously retaining her calm, "I do have a fairly good idea, so I suggest you stop before you finish that sentence."

"I've tried...everything. I'm miserable. My wife's miserable because she can see how much I-"

"Don't! Don't do that," she implored, "you know we can't do that."

"Can't we?"

"You made a decision," she reminded him. "An honorable decision. I respect you for it. Very much."

"Would you respect me less if I told you how much I'm coming to regret it?"

As Mary Margaret's face fell in sorrow, David felt a powerful wave of shame. How had it gotten to this? How had he managed to cause so much pain around him?

"You need to sort out your life, David," she said, brushing his cheek gently, finding moisture there. "You ought to take a step back and think things through. Take a road trip. Go camping in the woods. Do whatever you need to do... But until you're done mulling it over, you shouldn't come here again. We shouldn't see each other at all. Please."

Her pleading made him come undone. Not trusting himself to speak, David nodded, resolving to do exactly as he'd been told. Wordlessly, they made their goodbyes. When Mary Margaret shut the door softly, David shook his head to clear it before he headed home to pack. Again.

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><p><em>To be continued.<br>Thanks a lot to my reviewers, especially the unlogged readers _whom I couldn't reply to!_ _


	3. Chapter 3

_« I can't stop love  
><em>_I can't erase what's been written down »  
><em>_Spain_

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><p>That night, Mary Margaret dreamt of a grandiose wedding. Rarely had a dream seemed so real that she could feel the tickle of the feathery dress she was wearing, or the weight of the imposing necklace that rested over her chest. Her emotions were just as tangible. Her whole being was consumed with happiness, her heart soaring with joy.<p>

When David vowed to love and cherish her always there was no conflict in his eyes, no doubt or second thoughts. But the moment he bent his head to give her their first marital kiss, the doors crashed open and Regina appeared before the assembly, cold fury radiating from her.

At that precise moment, Mary Margaret woke up with a start and gasped for air. The confusion she felt dissipated as the unforgiving reality of the here and now came rushing back to her. It appeared that her subconscious had been working in overdrive.

Mary Margaret went through her morning routine distracted. For the first time in weeks, she wasn't in any rush. Today there would be no breakfast at Granny's at the crack of dawn, no exchange of furtive glances, no secret smiles.

"You've been staring at that page for a good ten minutes now," Emma noted as she poured herself some coffee before grabbing a chair to sit opposite her roommate. "Either the key to that overhyped fairy tale dimension of ours is hidden somewhere in there or your head's not in it. What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Mary Margaret replied, shutting her book in surrender; the pages might as well have been covered with undecipherable hieroglyphs. "I didn't sleep well, that's all."

"So we're here again," Emma sighed. "I knew I should have arrested him last night. I still could, you know."

"Arrest him for what, exactly?" Mary Margaret asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't know," Emma shrugged. "Trespassing? Disorderly conduct? Sexual harassment? Hey, if you promise to lose the frown, I'll even let you choose."

"That would be a blatant abuse of power, _Sheriff_. I would be left with no choice but to report you to the local authority."

"I just hate seeing you like this," Emma replied, taking her friend's hand in hers.

"It will pass," Mary Margaret offered unconvincingly.

Before the previous night's events, she'd thought she'd been rather successful at repressing her feelings for David. Hadn't she been going for increasingly long stretches of time without thinking about him? But his barging in had blown out the facade of her estrangement. His conspicuous jealousy had thrilled her, his open longing for her had revived the hopes and desires she'd thought had been effectively buried in the back of her mind.

"I'm going to be late for school," Mary Margaret said suddenly to break her train of thought. She rose to rinse her cup and gather her things before grinning in Emma's direction. "Don't do anything that could get you dismissed while I'm away, alright?"

"_Fine_," Emma replied in mock disappointment. "Hey, could you at least _try _to look collected? You're gonna scare the children," she called after her, and laughed when one of Mary Margaret's gloves hit her square in the face.

* * *

><p>Mary Margaret had just dismissed her class for lunch when she heard a knock on her door. Her heart stopped when she looked up to find Kathryn standing in the doorway. The wave of shame and guilt she'd so often felt in recent weeksquickly rose, threatening to submerge her. <em>You haven't done anything wrong,<em> she reminded herself. _Breathe_.

"Hi," Kathryn said as she stepped into the class, a half-hearted smile on her face. Her makeup did little to hide the dark circles under her eyes, the remnants of a troubled and sleepless night.

"Hi," Mary Margaret said in return, hoping the alarm she felt didn't show on her face.

"Don't look so terrified. I just want to talk," the blonde clarified. "If that's alright with you," she added as an afterthought, although it was clear she had no intention of letting herself be dismissed.

"Okay," Mary Margaret nodded and took a few steps to face her rival, her stance rigid**.**

"David left again last night," Kathryn started. "As I'm sure you already know."

"I...have no idea where he went, if that's what you want to know."

Kathryn shook her head. "He said he needed time to figure things out. Where he does it doesn't really matter."

Mary Margaret kept quiet as her unease grew.

"Have you and him...?" Kathryn let the question die down, evidently fighting to keep her face impassive.

"No! No, of course not. Nothing's happened," she assured her, before amending, "nothing like that."

"But there is something going on between you two," Kathryn stated affirmatively.

Mary Margaret could only look down. She was well aware of being a thoroughly incompetent liar. "I suppose you could say so."

Kathryn let out a long sigh. "I didn't want to see it at first. It was right there in front of me, but I kept ignoring it. I suppose I thought I could just will it away. That if I worked hard enough on repairing our marriage, it would be enough. That _I _would become enough."

"I don't know what to say," Mary Margaret muttered. "I never wanted this."

"I love him," Kathryn declared morosely.

"I don't doubt that," Mary Margaret replied, feeling the wave rise again, higher and higher.

"I want him to be happy," Kathryn continued, her eyes filling with tears. "And if that means letting him go, then I will. If he chooses you...If he decides you're what he needs to be happy, I won't stand in the way. That's what I came here to tell you. But don't flaunt it, okay?" Kathryn chuckled humorlessly as her voice broke. "I've had enough of being the talk of the town."

Mary Margaret was torn between her natural restraint and the urge to comfort the other woman. But it wasn't her place to console her, she knew. The best she could do for Kathryn was to make sure their paths crossed as little as possible until they were all past this.

After Kathryn's departure, Mary Margaret brushed her own tears away from her face. _Try to look collected_, she reminded herself of Emma's words. _Don't scare the children. S_he had little time to pull herself together before the bell rang to announce the start of her afternoon class.

* * *

><p>"Well, that was classy," Emma remarked when Mary Margaret was done recounting her earlier conversation with Kathryn. "A little dramatic, maybe, but classy nonetheless."<p>

"I'm a horrible person," Mary Margaret stated.

"You're the _worst_. How could you fall in love with such an unpleasant and repelling man? And how dare you for trying to be respectful of everyone involved. I'm not sure I can be friends with you anymore."

"I wouldn't blame you if you didn't," the brunette declared. Any response from Emma was interrupted by the door ringing**.**

"I'll get it," Emma offered. A moment later, she came back and stage whispered, "I think you forgot something."

Mary Margaret went to the door to find none other than Dr. Connor Whale waiting for her, a bouquet of daisies clutched in his hand.

"Well," Connor said as he took in her attire, which consisted in a nightgown and slippers, "either you've decided to skip straight to dessert, or you forgot about our date entirely. In which case... Wow, you sure know how to make a man feel good about his prowess."

"I'm so sorry," she replied, flustered. "I had a...difficult day and I completely forgot that we were supposed to see each other tonight. I...I'm not really up for going out."

"Shall we reschedule, then?"

"Look," she started, before shutting the door to shelter them from wandering ears. "I don't regret what happened between us. I had a nice time. You were...very competent," she humored him.

"That's more like it," he smirked. "Now, tell me you'll treasure the memory of our night of passion until the day you die."

"...But I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"Which I'm sure has _nothing _to do with everyone's favorite former comatose patient glaring holes into the back of my head yesterday morning at Granny's, mmh?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," she countered weakly, blushing with mortification.

"Oh, come on. You two have been a lot less discreet than you seem to believe."

"You knew?"

"Anybody with a functioning pair of eyes knew," Connor corrected. "And talked about it. Profusely," he teasingly added. "Who doesn't like a tragic tale of forbidden love between a recovering patient and his devoted nurse?"

"Oh, no," she groaned. "I had no idea."

"That's what made it so fun," Connor informed her, grinning brightly. "So. My loss, I guess."

"I'm sorry," Mary Margaret offered, biting her lip.

"I'll survive," Connor assured her. "Although, if you're feeling particularly apologetic..."

"Goodnight, Connor."

"I'll see you around, Ms. Blanchard," he said, bowing his head before turning his heels to leave.

"Funny guy," Emma noted when Mary Margaret joined her inside.

"Hey," the brunette exclaimed in mock outrage as she dropped the flowers on the kitchen counter and sunk down on a chair. "Aren't there laws preventing law enforcement officers from prying into the private affairs of the good citizens of this town?"

"It's my job to know what's happening around here. You know, just in case things should escalate."

Before Mary Margaret could retort, the doorbell rang again. "What now," she sighed, dropping her head.

But when she went to the door, she found the man she'd been yearning for standing on her doorstep, showing none of the anguish that had been clouding his features the night before.

"Hi," David said, wringing his hands nervously. "I know it hasn't been long. You probably expected to be rid of me for another few days, but...I'm done thinking," he announced, giving her only half a moment to gather her wits before he wrapped his arms around her small frame.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<em>

_I know, I know, but don't hate me yet. This chapter just needed to end there. We'll pick up where we left off.  
><em>


	4. Chapter 4

_« I am the state. You are the flag. You are the one. »  
><em>_Lambchop_

* * *

><p>After their conversation the previous night, David had gone home to pack. He'd found Kathryn in the kitchen, absently washing the dishes. She hadn't parted with that distracted expression as he'd gone on to explain his need for solitude until he could figure out what was missing so dearly from his life. She'd only stood and looked on resignedly as he'd filled a suitcase and left.<p>

With no place left to go, David had gone to book a room at Granny's Inn. In the lobby, he'd come across Mr. Gold, who'd appeared curious as to his presence at the inn. In spite of David's dark mood, the two had shared a peculiar conversation, full of cryptic pearls of wisdom and thinly veiled warnings about the possible consequences of his actions. There was a dazzling, hypnotic quality to Mr. Gold's voice that seemed to give his words a foreboding feel.

David had been hoping to sleep through the worst of his turmoil, but the moment he'd dropped to his bed, restlessness had hit him in earnest. He'd spent the night arguing with himself, his heart opposing his brain, until exhaustion got the best of him in the early hours of day. When he awoke a few hours later, everything was clearer. The mere idea of moving back home, of going through the motions if only for another day, was inconceivable to him. Whether he liked it or not, his marriage was over. Resolved to do things right this time, David called Kathryn's office and left a message, asking if she could come home early so the two of them could talk.

* * *

><p>"I know it hasn't been long," David told an astonished Mary Margaret as he fought through a cloud of nervousness, praying that she wouldn't reject him. "You probably expected to be rid of me for another few days but...I'm done thinking," he said urgently before gathering her in his arms.<p>

The next moment, Mary Margaret was melting into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. When their lips finally met, after so much time wasted yearning for that closeness, all remaining uncertainty vanished. This was where he belonged.

David had lost all notion of time until the moment was broken by the clearing of a throat, as Emma tried to nudge her way past them. Regretfully, he let go of Mary Margaret, catching her hand in his before she could move too far away from him.

"I've got something to do," Emma informed them. "At the station. Official police business, you know. Very urgent."

"Sounds dangerous," Mary Margaret deadpanned. "Please, don't get yourself injured in the line of duty."

"I'll be cautious," Emma replied, biting a smirk. "And you two, behave. The last thing I want is to be called back here on an afterhours noise complaint."

With a wave of her hand, she made her goodbyes before jogging away into the night. David couldn't help but chuckle.

"That's a subtle friend you've got."

"You have no idea," Mary Margaret replied, a spark of laughter in her voice. "Come on," she said, pulling him by the hand. "Let's get inside."

* * *

><p>When the door closed behind them, David found himself at a loss. Taking his cues from her, David slipped off his jacket, kicked off his shoes, and stood self-consciously in the entryway, hesitant to take the initiative once more. He'd come to her, had made his intentions clear. Now it was her turn.<p>

"So, you're done thinking," she said encouragingly.

"I am," he said, trying to read her suddenly guarded expression.

"I think I might have to catch up with you," she replied with a nervous laugh. "Do you want a glass of wine?"

Drink and conversation was not what appealed to him most at that moment, but the last thing he wanted was for her to doubt the sincerity of his intentions. Determined to reassure her, he set about recounting the past twenty-four hours.

"When I saw you with Whale," he said with an air of distaste, "it was like an electric shock. I thought I'd lost you, that I'd lost my chance, and that I'd have to go through a lifetime of regretting it. I couldn't bear it."

"And Kathryn?" Mary Margaret asked with a frown.

"We talked," he nodded. "I can't keep living a lie. I think she understood."

"I'm sure she did," Mary Margaret agreed, her smile faltering. It was difficult for them both to earn their happiness at the expense of someone else's.

"This is not a fling," he said, grabbing her hand from across the table. "I'm deadly serious. I hope you understand that."

"I was hoping you were," she smiled, putting down her glass.

"I'm yours, if you'll have me," David said again, as his heart kept pounding harder and harder.

Mary Margaret untangled their fingers and rose up, circling around the table until she was standing before him, her daring expression only softened by the blush of her cheeks.

"So, this is it," he said, getting to his feet.

"This is it," she agreed, her eyes dancing. Linking her hands behind the nape of his neck, she pressed the length of her body flush against him until there was no space left between them at all.

* * *

><p>Everything about her was both familiar and mesmerizing. The softness of her skin, the smell of her hair, the taste of her kiss, the warmth of her breath against his neck, all of it called to a part of himself that felt strangely foreign. He knew where to find her beauty marks, where to kiss her to make her tremble, and was inclined to use that knowledge to the best of his ability.<p>

"James," she moaned as he nipped at her neck, making him stop dead in his tracks

"What...what did you just call me?"

"I..." she started, looking up in confusion.

"You called me James," he insisted.

"Did I? I must be delirious," she laughed breathlessly against his skin.

But there was something striving to break free at the back of his mind, a thought that wouldn't be chased, both elusive and vital.

"Say it again," he implored. "Call me 'James'."

"James. James," she repeated as a mist lifted from her eyes. "My love. You've found me again."

He felt a jolt at her words, a desire that expanded until the earth shifted and realigned.

"I have," he concurred as emotions flooded him. "How many times did I promise you I would?"

"Somehow, you keep exceeding all my expectations."

* * *

><p>It was the strangest state of consciousness. Long suppressed fragments of their former selves were resurfacing one after the other, combining to form a larger picture, one that came entirely at odds with their present lives. It was like tearing at the clouds to let the light shine through.<p>

They talked the night away, confronting their freshly recovered memories, trying to solve the puzzle and fill in the cracks, although many pieces were still evading them both.

There would be a time to mourn the years they'd spent apart, and the childhood of the daughter that had been ripped from their arms, but not that night. They wouldn't let misery or resentment intrude on the solace of finding each other again.

They were enjoying a late breakfast of hot chocolate and pancakes when they heard the sound of a key turning the lock in the door. A moment later, Emma appeared, one hand held firmly over her eyes, the other feeling her way along the walls.

"Are you guys decent?" she inquired, her improvised blindfold still in place.

Snow made a sound like a muffled scream as she jumped to her feet and hurried to pull her long lost daughter into a fierce embrace.

"What was that for?" Emma asked her, startled. "Is everything alright?"

Barely containing a sob, Snow released her grown child long enough to exchange a glance with James, who was now standing not two feet away. He wrapped a hand around his lover's – his_ wife's _– shoulder to give her a reassuring squeeze.

"Emma," Snow started, rubbing tears away from her eyes. "Oh, Emma. We need to talk."

* * *

><p>"I know it's a lot to take in," Snow admitted in the face of Emma's overt skepticism. Their daughter was staring at them both in turn, wide-eyed and dumbstruck.<p>

"Look, it's not like I don't want to believe you, but... Coming from Henry it's kind of cute. From you, it's just creepy."

"I don't know how I could prove it to you," Snow told her dejectedly. "I don't have anything to show for it."

"There's something Gold told me," James interrupted, "that's been rolling around my head. He said I could only keep my feelings buried underground for so long."

It wasn't so much the odd turn of phrase than the intent stare the powerful man had given him that had stayed with him. Their world was falling apart, James wouldn't discount any clue until they knew how to rebuild it back to the way it should have always been.

"We've got to speak to him," Snow announced decisively. "Right away."

"Gold?"

"Not Gold," she countered with a shake of her head, giving James a meaningful glance. "Rumpelstiltskin."

"Oh, come on!" Emma moaned in disbelief and exasperation. "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

* * *

><p><em>To be continued.<br>_

_This story was meant to be a three chapters affair, tops. Somehow these two keep going on. If you're enjoying this and wish to read more, please review to keep my motivation intact... Or let me know if enough is enough._


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